The Cost of Divorce 7/?. Crossover NCIS/The Sentinel.
Pairing: Jim/Blair: Established relationship. Jim/Gibbs: Past Relationship. Gibbs/DiNozzo pre-slash.
Rating: FRM
Summary: An NCIS agent, a Baltimore detective, a Sentinel, a Guide, a serial killer. What more do you need?
Chapter Summary: Never let a Sandburg wander the halls without an escort...
This is actually a nearly completed story. Later chapters currently being Beta'd. The obligatory "How Tony joined NCIS" story by JustJeanette
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations from the TV-shows "NCIS" and "The Sentinel". NCIS is created and owned by David P. Bellisarius and CBS. The Sentinel still belong to Paramount and Pet Fly. I'm just playing No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Beta'd by: the NCIS chat group and The Big D... Any mistakes left are mine and I'm trying to get a better handle on POV shifting but I still make mistakes.
The Cost of Divorce: Chapter Seven
Jim was fast coming to the belief that coffee, at least served in receptacles larger than 10 ounces, was a hazardous liquid and should be labeled as such.
Jim and Blair had been left at loose ends while they waited for Gibbs and DiNozzo to return to the Homicide squad room; Gibbs, with DiNozzo in tow, had headed out to his vehicle to pick up a change of clothes prior to both Gibbs and Dinozzo adjourning to the showers to deal with the aftermath of their Coffee induced misfortune. Unfortunately, for Blair, the time taken by Gibbs and DiNozzo to shower and change was sufficiently long enough that Blair's own caffeine intake had enough time to work its way though his system with the standard result.
When Jim had turned to follow him to the Men's room Blair had sighed and commented, with more than a touch of exasperation, that he was quite capable of taking care of business, after all he'd been toilet trained since three.
"Chief, humor me," Jim tried reasoning with Blair, "we're in a different precinct and knowing you, you'll get lost and I'll have to spend half the day tracking you down."
"Hardy, ha, ha, Jim," Blair glared at his partner, "I get lost once. . ."
"Seven times at last count, Chief," Jim blithely interrupted.
". . .and I get reminded, time and time again," Blair just ignored Jim at that point. "I mean, what can possibly happen to me inside a fully manned police station?"
"Two words, Garrett Kincaid."
"That's four, Jim," Blair sniped back. "Be honest, Jim, what can really happen?"
Blair should have kept his mouth shut. How much trouble could he get into inside a manned police station? Lots, it seemed. . .
Newly promoted to the rank of Detective, Keith Rodgers couldn't believe his luck when he noticed the short man with long curly hair and wearing a charcoal gray suit exiting the men's room near the homicide squad's bullpen. Still, the instructors at the academy had emphasized that serial killers often liked to get close to the investigation, almost daring the police to catch them. It looked like the Baltimore killer was definitely of that breed. Discretely checking that the safety was disengaged on his service revolver, Rodgers forced himself to assume the standard 'I am a police man and I want to help you' expression before he cautiously approached the man.
Blair, with his sense of direction well and truly turned around by the twisting corridors of the Baltimore PD, was ecstatic to see a friendly face approaching. The one ongoing problem Blair had in most police stations was that the inhabitants tended to take one look at him and assume he'd been bought in as one of the usual suspects for a local drug bust; this equated to open looks of hostility or disdain. "Hey, man," Blair enthused, "Am I glad to see a friendly face. You wouldn't happen to know the way back to. . ."
Rodgers went from smiling and affable to terminator-cop in the blink of an eye. Rodgers grabbed Blair by the elbow and twisted viciously, forcing Blair to turn with the twist or have his elbow snapped. Blair, training by Jim Ellison and perfected by a variety of persons intent on kidnapping or maiming him, went with the movement, continuing the turn until Rodgers was forced to let go or be slammed into the wall with the combined force of the momentum generated by two men. Blair finished the turn and stepped back and away before assuming a martial arts ready stance.
Meanwhile, Rogers had un-holstered his weapon and aimed it at the center of Blair's chest. "Don't even think about it, punk." Rodgers growled, his aim never wavering. "Turn around, face the wall and spread them; I'm sure you know the deal."
"What's with the dirty Harry routine," Blair asked as he moved to comply. "Jim. A bit of help here," Blair sub-vocalized betting that Jim had his ears turned in on him even thought he'd complained about not needing a babysitter to go to the men's room. Blair was not looking forward to eating crow for the next week, but he was willing to bet a month's salary that Jim would milk this for all it was worth.
Rodgers chose to ignore the punk-ass question. Instead he moved quickly to cuff Blair as he proudly recited, "You have the right to remain silent."
"Silent, why should I want to remain silent? I want to know what you're arresting me for." Blair started raising his voice hoping to attract someone's, anyone's, attention before he had to do something drastic to the idiot trying to arrest him.
Rodgers chose to ignore Blair's outburst, putting it down to false bravado. Instead he continued on reading Blair his rights, speaking over the of Blair's increasingly loud objections. Rodgers finished with a flourish as he cuffed Blair's wrists together, overly tightly, behind Blair's back.
"What I don't understand is why you're arresting me," Blair groused, vision of Jim telling everyone back at Cascade how their favorite trouble magnet managed to get arrested inside a police station… again "I'm a cop, for Christ-sake, check my ID."
Rodgers couldn't believe it; the killer was claiming to be a cop. Right. . . and Elvis was flipping burgers down at the local Wonderburger. Without bothering to pay attention to Blair's protestations of innocence, Rodgers frog-marched Blair along the corridors back towards the homicide squad room.
In one of those glorious moments of perversity, Rodgers, Blair, Ellison, Chief of Police Fredrick Jones and Captain Turner all arrived at the intersection, formed where the corridor between the PD's media room and the rooms housing the homicide squad was bisected by the corridor between the seventh floor break room and the rooms housing the vice squad, at the same time. The ensuing fracas; Jim trying to haul Sandburg out of the tangle of bodies whilst Jones started to congratulate Rodgers and Turner frantically trying to silence his superior officers, was the sort of A-roll television executives dreamed of. To make matters worse, Sandra Sully with her film crew were following behind so they caught the action for posterity on film.
"What the hell is going on?" Gibbs may never have been a drill instructor but he had been an MP and he could project his voice with the best of them.
Rodgers, still riding a wave of self-congratulation and totally ignoring any hints -- such as the forearm that was currently trying to crush his windpipe -- of his own imminent demise, croaked, "I'm attempting to arrest the Baltimore Killer."
Tony, standing just behind, and to the left of Gibbs, tried unsuccessfully to hide his shock at that pronouncement. "Um, Detective Rodgers, I suggest you let Detective Sandburg go before Detective Ellison does anything terminal," Tony commented blandly while directing a pointed look at Rodgers hands.
Rodgers, held so that he was forced to stand on his toes so as not to choke, was still clutching the chain between the cuffs he'd applied to Blair's wrists. The height difference between Rodgers and Blair meant that with Rodgers still holding the cuffs Sandburg was forced to bend forwards, and even then it was obvious that his shoulders were somewhat twisted.
"Detective?? He ain't no detective!" Rodgers echoed Bunka's earlier comments, much to the disgust of Gibbs, Ellison and Sandburg. Even Tony was mortified at the showing the department was making before the cadre of Feds.
Turner had taken the lull in activities to clue Jones into the identities of the various individuals currently crowded in the corridor. Jones, who was imagining the political fallout from the current state of affairs, looked around for Detective Bunka, on whose shoulders he intended to lay the entire mess. Bunka, with an almost rat-like sense of self-preservation, was no where in sight.
Rodgers, meanwhile, had at least let go of Sandburg's wrists. He wasn't able to do much else as Ellison was still intent of indicating just how displeased he was with the younger detective. To make matters worse, at least from Rodgers point of view, Ellison seemed quite capable of holding him up against the wall until doomsday without breaking a sweat.
Blair, released from the awkward position he'd been forced to stand in, flexed his shoulders a couple of times to loosen the kinks out of them, before proceeding to demonstrate how a childhood growing up with a yoga loving, hippy flower-child of the sixties could be extremely useful. In fact, he'd also met a variety of interesting people in his youth, including a fairly successful escape artist, meaning that escaping the cuffs, now that his hands were no longer held, was child's play.
"Jim, he's just doing his job!" Blair pulled at Ellison's shoulder. "A bit too enthusiastically, I'll admit," Blair unwisely remarked as he tried stretching out the last of the kinks in his neck.
Rodgers tried to say something but it came out as a strangled gasp as Ellison leaned a little further in.
"Stand down, Jim," Blair switched tone into the shamanistic register; Jim complied, eventually, but not before whispering dire warnings in Rodgers ear.
"Man," Blair whispered to Rodgers, "I'd make myself scarce if I was you."
Rodgers didn't need to be told twice, leaving so precipitously that he left his cuffs which were now open but hanging from Blair's left wrist.
"Chief Jones," Tony stepped into the metaphorical breach and began the round of introductions.
Gibbs meanwhile had approached the cameraman that was joyfully recording the events for prosperity or a shot at the Pulitzer Prize for on-the-spot reporting. When Gibbs suggested that the camera man might like to consider turning the camera off, and handing over any and all footage, the camera man turned, in righteous fury, ready to defend his first amendment rights under freedom of the press. After one quick glance at the steely blue eyes and the ever-so-polite countenance on Gibbs' face, the camera man decided that maybe the B-roll he was currently shooting wasn't that news worthy.
"Sensible man," Gibbs commented as tape and disks were deposited in his outstretched hand.
Sandra Sully was about to object as she observed her cameraman cower under the force of Gibbs personality, that was until the man turned his gaze to her. Sandra had faced down drug lords, corrupt politicians, and Mob bosses, Personally, she thought they could all have taken lessons from the man who'd been introduced as Agent Gibbs.
Gibbs allowed the slightest smirk appear; his eyes lighting up mischievously for a moment.
Sandra bowed her head in submission. She was experienced enough to know that the sort of footage they'd captured was not in the public interest if there was a serial killer loose in her town, still. "I'll want that back later," she mouthed at the NCIS agent.
Given the grief he'd had to put up with so far today Gibbs was inclined to be gracious; embarrassing this PD after he'd acquired DiNozzo's services would be fitting payment. A small nod indicated he'd consider the request.
Jones, having been bought almost up to speed suggested that the relevant people retire to his office with him and that all other, unnecessary personnel return to their business. When nobody moved Jones snapped, "Now!"
Gibbs smiled as people scattered in all directions.
"Agent Gibbs, Detectives Ellison and Sandburg, would you mind joining me for coffee?" Jones asked when the area was finally cleared of extraneous people.
Gibbs looked ready to object; he wanted to get back to NCIS where he had undisputed control. Any comment that he would have made, however, was silenced by a look from Dinozzo.
"Let's give the media people a chance to issue that retraction," Tony was saying as he jostled Gibbs into following along behind Jones. "I'm certain you don't want a repeat of what just happened here, Agent Gibbs. Anyway, the Chief's office has the best coffee in the precinct and I need to replace the one you spilt."
Gibbs gave Tony points for subtlety. Tony had successfully maneuvered him -- something that very few had ever managed -- into staying at the PD for the moment. "The coffee had better be worth it, DiNozzo."
"If it's not, I'm sure I can find another way to make it up to you," Tony smiled at Gibbs.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"You ride with me, DiNozzo," Gibbs stated as they finally left Jones' office. Jones might have been a cut above the rest, but he was still enough of a political animal that being trapped in Jones' office with poor quality coffee had done little to improve Gibbs' temper.
"And when I need to get home?" Tony snapped back.
"You're not going to be any use to me if you have to commute to the Yard everyday till we get this solved, DiNozzo," Gibbs was used to getting his own way and he wasn't planning on backing down now. "I've got a spare room, you can bunk there."
"We'll need to swing by my place first, then," Tony groused trying to get Gibbs to let up on the idea; after all the department had vehicles to spare.
"Was going to, DiNozzo," Gibbs grinned as he upset Tony plans to grab another vehicle. "Directions?"
"How about I drive?" Tony tried another tack; he'd seen Gibbs peel off from the Lovegrove Street scene and had decided, then and there, that riding with Gibbs was something to be avoided, at all costs. "I know the city, after all."
"Passenger seat, now, DiNozzo," Gibbs snapped.
Tony resisted the urge, barely, to snap 'yes, sir', before he got into the front passenger seat.
The trip to Tony's apartment was made in record time. Tony got the whole beating your best time thing but he was willing to admit that he'd never, ever, be able to beat the time Gibbs took to get from the PD to his apartment. "You know you make Mad Max look like a Sunday Driver, don't you?" Tony tried to play it cool while he peeled his fingers off the panic handle.
"Mad Max?"
"Beyond Thunderdome? Remember: no matter where you go, there you are, which kind of explains your driving," Tony quipped as his heart rate began to slow down now that the adrenaline rush was wearing off. "Still, I must admit I love the whole Blue's Brothers thing you've got going with this car." Tony continued to babble, patting the hood as he waited till his legs caught up with the fact that the car had stopped.
Gibbs just looked at Tony as though the man had grown another head.
"This car," Tony banged the hood for emphasis, "has got a cop motor, a 440 cubic inch plant, cop tires, cop suspensions, cop shocks. Am I right?"
"Inside," Gibbs growled cutting Tony off before the young man babbled anymore. "Grab your gear; I'm leaving in ten minutes."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Okay, Jim, you ready to talk yet?" Blair asked as Jim buckled up beside him.
"About?" Jim tried the stalling tactic knowing it wouldn't work. Zone one and two he could explain but the third one, he wasn't sure what had caused it yet either so answering Blair's questions was going to be difficult.
"About the zone-fest you've been on today." Blair didn't even blink, riding straight over Jim's attempted stall. "Three times, Jim, three times. The only time you've zoned in the past year has been when I've completed major ritual magic."
"And that accounts for one of today's zones," Jim deflected.
"And the other two?" Blair wasn't backing down.
"I think I know why the first zone," Jim actually started blushing which had Blair wondering where the camera was, and did he have time to grab it. "The course, two weeks, no privacy."
"Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting, man?"
"You're going to make me say it, aren't you?" Jim grumbled.
"Yes," Blair agreed a little too quickly for Jim's taste.
Jim resorted to glaring at his partner. There was no way he was going to admit to Blair just how much depended on Blair to keep him grounded. The thing was, since they'd become lovers there was almost always bits of Blair on Jim, or in Jim; so, even if Blair wasn't with Jim, he was. In fact, this conference had been the longest the two men had been apart and Jim was paying for it.
"Jim," Blair ignored the glare, instead pressing for more information. "I need to know these things, man. Secrets have a bad habit of biting us."
"Okay, I think some of my control comes from having you with me, always and in all ways," Jim reluctantly admitted.
"Wow," Blair's eyes looked like they might pop out of his head. "How long can you go without, I wonder." The smile Blair sent Jim's way suggesting all manner of experiments; none of which Jim was keen on.
"Chief, do you want to be the one to explain to Simon that we need a nookie break before I can work my magic?" Jim went on the offence before Blair started planning on curtailing their extra-curricular activities; all in the name of the advancement of Sentinel knowledge.
"No, but. . ."
"No buts, Chief," Jim had a solution planned, one that he thought was much better than abstinence. "How about we just make sure that we never go that long again without a bit of us time?"
"I can do that," Blair's smile this time suggesting that maybe now was a good time to pull over and stop for a bit of that us time. "But don't think I've forgotten about that last zone."
'Damn,' Jim thought he'd gotten away with that one. "I think it was something I smelled," Jim tried to explain.
"The murderer?" Blair asked disbelievingly, "or something else?"
"Something else, I think."
"Come on, Jim, you know the drill. The memory is there, filed away. Pull it up and tell me about it." Blair always got pushy when something went astray with Jim's Sentinel abilities.
"I remember Dr. Mallard fishing for information," Jim grudgingly admitted. "Just how much do you think he suspects, Chief?"
"Who?"
"Dr. Mallard, that's who. He even commented about not wanting to upset my young guide."
"Oh shit," Blair went a whiter shade of pale.
"Blair," Jim was reaching for the steering wheel even as he asked after his companion's health, "hey, no fainting while driving. You want to pull over and let me take the wheel?"
Blair shook his head as though to clear cobwebs. "No can do, bro, I'm the only listed driver. You drive and we're not insured."
"So, what's got you so worried then?"
"Abby Sciuto," Blair replied causing Jim to blink at the non-sequitor.
"Abby Sciuto?"
"Gibbs' forensic scientist, remember, Gibbs mentioned her?"
"So?" Jim remembered the name; he also remembered Blair didn't look too happy when he'd heard it either.
"Dr. Mallard was heading back to NCIS and I'll just bet he's going to mention his suspicions to their forensic scientist, a brilliant forensic scientist known for thinking outside the box."
"Oh, hell." Jim had to agree with Blair's assessment, they were screwed. If Blair knew about Ms Sciuto and thought of her as someone able to think outside the box then she's be able to think outside the small box, and the BIG box.
"Yep, we are screwed."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Gibbs cocked an eyebrow as he watched DiNozzo chuck a relatively small backpack into the back seat before Tony slid into the passenger seat beside him. "Traveling light, DiNozzo?"
"Always," Tony flashed his brightest grin at the NCIS agent, cock-sure of himself as he'd made it back down to the car with almost thirty seconds to spare. "Never know when you might have to up and leave in a hurry." Tony quipped, though the jovial tone (and the smile) weren't reflected in the young man's eyes.
Gibbs filed that fact away for later. Given that Tony appeared to be something of a clothes horse -- the cut and quality of the material of the suit testament to the fact that DiNozzo understood fashion -- the size of the backpack was almost incongruous. "You got enough stuff in there if I need you in Washington for more than a day?"
"If I need another pair of jeans I can always grab them." Tony replied with a cheeky grin. "You only allowed me ten minutes to pack so I went for the basics, you know, what I need to shower, shit and shave, like a marine."
"This isn't basic, DiNozzo," Gibbs growled back but any implied reprimand was negated by the slight crinkling at the edge of Gibbs' eyes and the half smirk that the ex-DI flashed at Tony.
"Didn't think it was," Tony pushed, living dangerously.
"DiNozzo," Gibbs planted his right foot on the accelerator, foregoing the pleasure of quick up-side slap to the head of one Anthony DiNozzo. The resultant scrabbling, as DiNozzo fought momentum, and inertia, while trying to buckle up his seatbelt caused Gibbs to grin as they pulled away from the curbside. "Don't lose your lunch."
"Wouldn't think of it, Boss," Tony had cottoned onto Gibbs' game and was going to give as good as he got.
A quick nod was all he got for his efforts but it seemed to Tony that he had passed some sort of test as Gibbs slowed the vehicle back from ludicrous speed and cruised along at plaid.
"So, do you think Sandburg's tenuous connection to the Navy will be enough to have NCIS take over the case?" Tony asked Gibbs turned the vehicle onto the Baltimore-Washington Parkway.
"Apart from the fact I've got a dead Marine, you mean?"
"Well, yes, apart from that."
"Don't know. You tell me, you're the one who's read the case files."
"Fine, victim number one, Dr. Michaela Corken, currently employed as a dental surgeon at the Sinai Hospital. She took the job in Baltimore to be closer to her fiancé, Dr. Simon Hanks. Hanks was recently employed as head of the University Of MD Oral Surgery Unit," Tony started to rattle off the facts of the case from memory. "Now, my guess is, unless it's a case of killer tooth decay, we can rule out work as a motive." Tony flashed a brilliant smile at Gibbs demonstrating in his case, at least, there was no killer decay lurking in the corners.
Gibbs turned his head, slightly, to face Tony. A raised eyebrow and an old fashioned look was all he was needed to reel DiNozzo back in.
Getting his head back in the game, DiNozzo continued. "Tox results all came back negative, no opiates, amphetamines or cannabinoids detected; so drugs as a motive also washed out. Sandburg's possible Navy connection, and it is tenuous, is that Michaela's first husband is ex-Navy."
"Ex-Navy?"
"The ex, Devon Alfred Corken, was, until recently a Lieutenant Colonel in the USMC Chemical Biological Incident Response Force. Not long after Michaela moved to Baltimore, Devon Corken accepted a position at BioDetect Systems to lead their research and development team; the salary package offered was a substantial increase on his previous salary as a Lieutenant Colonel and the head office is here in Baltimore."
"So, did he follow the ex out of spite? Was he still sleeping with her?" Gibbs knew, from painful experience, that a man, even a Marine, might follow his ex-wife to keep messing up her life; the fact that he'd discovered his first (ex) wife in bed with her ex-husband when he'd returned from an overseas deployment was proof enough that Devon Corken might still be deeply involved in his ex-wife's affairs.
"Something like that happen to you?" Tony asked, having picked up on the angry and bitter undertone.
Gibbs didn't deign to answer the question though he did tighten his grip on the steering wheel.
Tony took the silence as an agreement and decided to move on to safer topics before the steering wheel cracked under the pressure. "If Devon Corken was still in Michaela's life it wasn't for the booty call. Apparently he paid higher than usual maintenance for his children, covering the costs of many extra-curricular activities. Custody visits were regular; the children's grades were above average, showing no signs of trauma or distress at having divorced parents. Both parents were noted as always attending parent-teacher interviews and the most recent by all three adults; one English teacher had actually commented on how well the ex-husband and the current fiancé got along particularly on issues relating to the children's education."
"So trouble between the ex- and the new fiancé didn't pan out as a motive either." Gibbs' comment was more a leading question than a statement. "I'm beginning to see why it's remained unsolved."
"All the usual suspects all have strong alibis, good relationships with the deceased, or both. If the deceased had been Devon we'd have been better off."
"How?"
"There were some strong indications of professional jealousy from some of David Corken's previous USMC colleagues; though BioDetect Systems were more than happy with the man's performance."
"Go on."
"The most notable detractor was David's superior officer, Colonel Mike Tastier. Tastier apparently had made numerous comments along the lines of he should have been offered the BioDetect Systems job and that one day David Corken would regret taking up the job offer. If David Corken had been the deceased, Tastier would have made a good suspect, but there appeared to be no reason why Tastier might kill Michaela."
"You're sure the target wasn't David Corken or Hanks?"
"Very, even with no obvious motive, not even robbery," Tony began to explain.
"Why not robbery? A house invasion gone wrong."
"Because Michaela's engagement ring (valued at over $5000) was still on her hand when her body had been found; nothing had been taken from the house at all. As for finances, we couldn't find any indication of financial problems for Michaela, Corken or Hanks. For all the apparent lack of motive, it seemed that Dr. Michaela Corken nee Jones had been a chosen target.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"It's no wonder that first shooting went unsolved," Blair commented after he'd finished reeling off the details of Michaela's murder.
"And the tenuous Navy connection is Tastier?" Jim asked for clarification.
"Not so much Tastier, more that Michaela's ex-husband was in the Marines. The second victim, Kong An, her ex-husband was also a Marine, a training Second Sergeant in EOD."
"And victims three, four and five?"
"Victim three, Tracy Jones, her ex-husband is currently stationed at Parris Island."
"So, you're not sure if it fits the patterns?"
"I still think we need more details about Tracy Jones' ex, plus I'll need the details of possible victims four and five before I can be sure but I don't think it's a coincidence that all of the decedents' ex-partners were associated at some point with the USMC."
"Great," Jim groaned, "I'm going to have to put up with Gibbs."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Gibbs strode out of the elevator and into the NCIS bullpen like he owned the place. Tony, almost unconsciously, fitted himself in a step behind, and half a step to the left of Gibbs, like he'd followed Gibbs his entire life.
Jim and Blair stayed in the elevator, ostensibly admiring the view. The truth was neither man keen to leave the safety of the elevator and face what was waiting for them in the bullpen: Dr. Mallard and Abby Sciuto.
"Gibbs, Gibbs, is it true?" Gibbs was almost bowled over by five-foot ten of tattooed 'Goth' girl in thigh high platform boots that had to have at least 5 inches of heel. "Did you really meet a Sentinel?"
"Sentinel, Abs?" Gibbs steadied the girl before she pitched forward, "What's a Sentinel?"
"Ducky was saying you met a Sentinel and a Guide," the girl babbled, "at the crime scene. Is it true? Is he cute? Was Blair Sandburg really there?"
"You don't have Brad and Janet stashed about here, too?" Tony asked Gibbs over the top of girl's babbling as he tried to get his mind around that fact that someone who looked like that apparently had the run of the building.
"Abs," Gibbs grabbed the girl by one shoulder and spun her around till she was facing Tony, "Tony DiNozzo, Baltimore PD. Tony, this is Abby Sciuto, my forensic scientist."
That was a forensic scientist? Black pig-tails, black eye liner, spider web-tattoo, and a collar. Right… Tony Blinked, twice.
Abby apparently was as impressed as he was. She looked Tony over, from head to toe, before turning back to face Gibbs. However, whatever her thoughts were, Tony was not privy to them as the Abby started waving her hands in front of Gibbs.
Gibbs, for his part looked at Abby and glared, before signing something back. "And no, I don't think he's the Sentinel," Gibbs finished whatever conversation he was having with the girl.
"Damn it Gibbs, I thought, for once, you'd brought me back something special." Abby actually pouted at Gibbs, dismissing Tony as not-important.
"He's not a toy, Abby," Gibbs mock growled.
Abby looked at Tony again, this time with a wicked gleam in her eye, "No, not a toy, but if you give me just seven days I can make you a man."
Tony blushed slightly, Gibbs may not have picked the movie reference but apparently Abby had.
Gibbs, ignoring the byplay, turned to glare at the elevator. "You two coming out here, or not?" The question was addressed to the open doors.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
TBC. . .
Rating: FRM
Summary: An NCIS agent, a Baltimore detective, a Sentinel, a Guide, a serial killer. What more do you need?
Chapter Summary: Never let a Sandburg wander the halls without an escort...
This is actually a nearly completed story. Later chapters currently being Beta'd. The obligatory "How Tony joined NCIS" story by JustJeanette
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations from the TV-shows "NCIS" and "The Sentinel". NCIS is created and owned by David P. Bellisarius and CBS. The Sentinel still belong to Paramount and Pet Fly. I'm just playing No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Beta'd by: the NCIS chat group and The Big D... Any mistakes left are mine and I'm trying to get a better handle on POV shifting but I still make mistakes.
The Cost of Divorce: Chapter Seven
Jim was fast coming to the belief that coffee, at least served in receptacles larger than 10 ounces, was a hazardous liquid and should be labeled as such.
Jim and Blair had been left at loose ends while they waited for Gibbs and DiNozzo to return to the Homicide squad room; Gibbs, with DiNozzo in tow, had headed out to his vehicle to pick up a change of clothes prior to both Gibbs and Dinozzo adjourning to the showers to deal with the aftermath of their Coffee induced misfortune. Unfortunately, for Blair, the time taken by Gibbs and DiNozzo to shower and change was sufficiently long enough that Blair's own caffeine intake had enough time to work its way though his system with the standard result.
When Jim had turned to follow him to the Men's room Blair had sighed and commented, with more than a touch of exasperation, that he was quite capable of taking care of business, after all he'd been toilet trained since three.
"Chief, humor me," Jim tried reasoning with Blair, "we're in a different precinct and knowing you, you'll get lost and I'll have to spend half the day tracking you down."
"Hardy, ha, ha, Jim," Blair glared at his partner, "I get lost once. . ."
"Seven times at last count, Chief," Jim blithely interrupted.
". . .and I get reminded, time and time again," Blair just ignored Jim at that point. "I mean, what can possibly happen to me inside a fully manned police station?"
"Two words, Garrett Kincaid."
"That's four, Jim," Blair sniped back. "Be honest, Jim, what can really happen?"
Blair should have kept his mouth shut. How much trouble could he get into inside a manned police station? Lots, it seemed. . .
Newly promoted to the rank of Detective, Keith Rodgers couldn't believe his luck when he noticed the short man with long curly hair and wearing a charcoal gray suit exiting the men's room near the homicide squad's bullpen. Still, the instructors at the academy had emphasized that serial killers often liked to get close to the investigation, almost daring the police to catch them. It looked like the Baltimore killer was definitely of that breed. Discretely checking that the safety was disengaged on his service revolver, Rodgers forced himself to assume the standard 'I am a police man and I want to help you' expression before he cautiously approached the man.
Blair, with his sense of direction well and truly turned around by the twisting corridors of the Baltimore PD, was ecstatic to see a friendly face approaching. The one ongoing problem Blair had in most police stations was that the inhabitants tended to take one look at him and assume he'd been bought in as one of the usual suspects for a local drug bust; this equated to open looks of hostility or disdain. "Hey, man," Blair enthused, "Am I glad to see a friendly face. You wouldn't happen to know the way back to. . ."
Rodgers went from smiling and affable to terminator-cop in the blink of an eye. Rodgers grabbed Blair by the elbow and twisted viciously, forcing Blair to turn with the twist or have his elbow snapped. Blair, training by Jim Ellison and perfected by a variety of persons intent on kidnapping or maiming him, went with the movement, continuing the turn until Rodgers was forced to let go or be slammed into the wall with the combined force of the momentum generated by two men. Blair finished the turn and stepped back and away before assuming a martial arts ready stance.
Meanwhile, Rogers had un-holstered his weapon and aimed it at the center of Blair's chest. "Don't even think about it, punk." Rodgers growled, his aim never wavering. "Turn around, face the wall and spread them; I'm sure you know the deal."
"What's with the dirty Harry routine," Blair asked as he moved to comply. "Jim. A bit of help here," Blair sub-vocalized betting that Jim had his ears turned in on him even thought he'd complained about not needing a babysitter to go to the men's room. Blair was not looking forward to eating crow for the next week, but he was willing to bet a month's salary that Jim would milk this for all it was worth.
Rodgers chose to ignore the punk-ass question. Instead he moved quickly to cuff Blair as he proudly recited, "You have the right to remain silent."
"Silent, why should I want to remain silent? I want to know what you're arresting me for." Blair started raising his voice hoping to attract someone's, anyone's, attention before he had to do something drastic to the idiot trying to arrest him.
Rodgers chose to ignore Blair's outburst, putting it down to false bravado. Instead he continued on reading Blair his rights, speaking over the of Blair's increasingly loud objections. Rodgers finished with a flourish as he cuffed Blair's wrists together, overly tightly, behind Blair's back.
"What I don't understand is why you're arresting me," Blair groused, vision of Jim telling everyone back at Cascade how their favorite trouble magnet managed to get arrested inside a police station… again "I'm a cop, for Christ-sake, check my ID."
Rodgers couldn't believe it; the killer was claiming to be a cop. Right. . . and Elvis was flipping burgers down at the local Wonderburger. Without bothering to pay attention to Blair's protestations of innocence, Rodgers frog-marched Blair along the corridors back towards the homicide squad room.
In one of those glorious moments of perversity, Rodgers, Blair, Ellison, Chief of Police Fredrick Jones and Captain Turner all arrived at the intersection, formed where the corridor between the PD's media room and the rooms housing the homicide squad was bisected by the corridor between the seventh floor break room and the rooms housing the vice squad, at the same time. The ensuing fracas; Jim trying to haul Sandburg out of the tangle of bodies whilst Jones started to congratulate Rodgers and Turner frantically trying to silence his superior officers, was the sort of A-roll television executives dreamed of. To make matters worse, Sandra Sully with her film crew were following behind so they caught the action for posterity on film.
"What the hell is going on?" Gibbs may never have been a drill instructor but he had been an MP and he could project his voice with the best of them.
Rodgers, still riding a wave of self-congratulation and totally ignoring any hints -- such as the forearm that was currently trying to crush his windpipe -- of his own imminent demise, croaked, "I'm attempting to arrest the Baltimore Killer."
Tony, standing just behind, and to the left of Gibbs, tried unsuccessfully to hide his shock at that pronouncement. "Um, Detective Rodgers, I suggest you let Detective Sandburg go before Detective Ellison does anything terminal," Tony commented blandly while directing a pointed look at Rodgers hands.
Rodgers, held so that he was forced to stand on his toes so as not to choke, was still clutching the chain between the cuffs he'd applied to Blair's wrists. The height difference between Rodgers and Blair meant that with Rodgers still holding the cuffs Sandburg was forced to bend forwards, and even then it was obvious that his shoulders were somewhat twisted.
"Detective?? He ain't no detective!" Rodgers echoed Bunka's earlier comments, much to the disgust of Gibbs, Ellison and Sandburg. Even Tony was mortified at the showing the department was making before the cadre of Feds.
Turner had taken the lull in activities to clue Jones into the identities of the various individuals currently crowded in the corridor. Jones, who was imagining the political fallout from the current state of affairs, looked around for Detective Bunka, on whose shoulders he intended to lay the entire mess. Bunka, with an almost rat-like sense of self-preservation, was no where in sight.
Rodgers, meanwhile, had at least let go of Sandburg's wrists. He wasn't able to do much else as Ellison was still intent of indicating just how displeased he was with the younger detective. To make matters worse, at least from Rodgers point of view, Ellison seemed quite capable of holding him up against the wall until doomsday without breaking a sweat.
Blair, released from the awkward position he'd been forced to stand in, flexed his shoulders a couple of times to loosen the kinks out of them, before proceeding to demonstrate how a childhood growing up with a yoga loving, hippy flower-child of the sixties could be extremely useful. In fact, he'd also met a variety of interesting people in his youth, including a fairly successful escape artist, meaning that escaping the cuffs, now that his hands were no longer held, was child's play.
"Jim, he's just doing his job!" Blair pulled at Ellison's shoulder. "A bit too enthusiastically, I'll admit," Blair unwisely remarked as he tried stretching out the last of the kinks in his neck.
Rodgers tried to say something but it came out as a strangled gasp as Ellison leaned a little further in.
"Stand down, Jim," Blair switched tone into the shamanistic register; Jim complied, eventually, but not before whispering dire warnings in Rodgers ear.
"Man," Blair whispered to Rodgers, "I'd make myself scarce if I was you."
Rodgers didn't need to be told twice, leaving so precipitously that he left his cuffs which were now open but hanging from Blair's left wrist.
"Chief Jones," Tony stepped into the metaphorical breach and began the round of introductions.
Gibbs meanwhile had approached the cameraman that was joyfully recording the events for prosperity or a shot at the Pulitzer Prize for on-the-spot reporting. When Gibbs suggested that the camera man might like to consider turning the camera off, and handing over any and all footage, the camera man turned, in righteous fury, ready to defend his first amendment rights under freedom of the press. After one quick glance at the steely blue eyes and the ever-so-polite countenance on Gibbs' face, the camera man decided that maybe the B-roll he was currently shooting wasn't that news worthy.
"Sensible man," Gibbs commented as tape and disks were deposited in his outstretched hand.
Sandra Sully was about to object as she observed her cameraman cower under the force of Gibbs personality, that was until the man turned his gaze to her. Sandra had faced down drug lords, corrupt politicians, and Mob bosses, Personally, she thought they could all have taken lessons from the man who'd been introduced as Agent Gibbs.
Gibbs allowed the slightest smirk appear; his eyes lighting up mischievously for a moment.
Sandra bowed her head in submission. She was experienced enough to know that the sort of footage they'd captured was not in the public interest if there was a serial killer loose in her town, still. "I'll want that back later," she mouthed at the NCIS agent.
Given the grief he'd had to put up with so far today Gibbs was inclined to be gracious; embarrassing this PD after he'd acquired DiNozzo's services would be fitting payment. A small nod indicated he'd consider the request.
Jones, having been bought almost up to speed suggested that the relevant people retire to his office with him and that all other, unnecessary personnel return to their business. When nobody moved Jones snapped, "Now!"
Gibbs smiled as people scattered in all directions.
"Agent Gibbs, Detectives Ellison and Sandburg, would you mind joining me for coffee?" Jones asked when the area was finally cleared of extraneous people.
Gibbs looked ready to object; he wanted to get back to NCIS where he had undisputed control. Any comment that he would have made, however, was silenced by a look from Dinozzo.
"Let's give the media people a chance to issue that retraction," Tony was saying as he jostled Gibbs into following along behind Jones. "I'm certain you don't want a repeat of what just happened here, Agent Gibbs. Anyway, the Chief's office has the best coffee in the precinct and I need to replace the one you spilt."
Gibbs gave Tony points for subtlety. Tony had successfully maneuvered him -- something that very few had ever managed -- into staying at the PD for the moment. "The coffee had better be worth it, DiNozzo."
"If it's not, I'm sure I can find another way to make it up to you," Tony smiled at Gibbs.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"You ride with me, DiNozzo," Gibbs stated as they finally left Jones' office. Jones might have been a cut above the rest, but he was still enough of a political animal that being trapped in Jones' office with poor quality coffee had done little to improve Gibbs' temper.
"And when I need to get home?" Tony snapped back.
"You're not going to be any use to me if you have to commute to the Yard everyday till we get this solved, DiNozzo," Gibbs was used to getting his own way and he wasn't planning on backing down now. "I've got a spare room, you can bunk there."
"We'll need to swing by my place first, then," Tony groused trying to get Gibbs to let up on the idea; after all the department had vehicles to spare.
"Was going to, DiNozzo," Gibbs grinned as he upset Tony plans to grab another vehicle. "Directions?"
"How about I drive?" Tony tried another tack; he'd seen Gibbs peel off from the Lovegrove Street scene and had decided, then and there, that riding with Gibbs was something to be avoided, at all costs. "I know the city, after all."
"Passenger seat, now, DiNozzo," Gibbs snapped.
Tony resisted the urge, barely, to snap 'yes, sir', before he got into the front passenger seat.
The trip to Tony's apartment was made in record time. Tony got the whole beating your best time thing but he was willing to admit that he'd never, ever, be able to beat the time Gibbs took to get from the PD to his apartment. "You know you make Mad Max look like a Sunday Driver, don't you?" Tony tried to play it cool while he peeled his fingers off the panic handle.
"Mad Max?"
"Beyond Thunderdome? Remember: no matter where you go, there you are, which kind of explains your driving," Tony quipped as his heart rate began to slow down now that the adrenaline rush was wearing off. "Still, I must admit I love the whole Blue's Brothers thing you've got going with this car." Tony continued to babble, patting the hood as he waited till his legs caught up with the fact that the car had stopped.
Gibbs just looked at Tony as though the man had grown another head.
"This car," Tony banged the hood for emphasis, "has got a cop motor, a 440 cubic inch plant, cop tires, cop suspensions, cop shocks. Am I right?"
"Inside," Gibbs growled cutting Tony off before the young man babbled anymore. "Grab your gear; I'm leaving in ten minutes."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Okay, Jim, you ready to talk yet?" Blair asked as Jim buckled up beside him.
"About?" Jim tried the stalling tactic knowing it wouldn't work. Zone one and two he could explain but the third one, he wasn't sure what had caused it yet either so answering Blair's questions was going to be difficult.
"About the zone-fest you've been on today." Blair didn't even blink, riding straight over Jim's attempted stall. "Three times, Jim, three times. The only time you've zoned in the past year has been when I've completed major ritual magic."
"And that accounts for one of today's zones," Jim deflected.
"And the other two?" Blair wasn't backing down.
"I think I know why the first zone," Jim actually started blushing which had Blair wondering where the camera was, and did he have time to grab it. "The course, two weeks, no privacy."
"Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting, man?"
"You're going to make me say it, aren't you?" Jim grumbled.
"Yes," Blair agreed a little too quickly for Jim's taste.
Jim resorted to glaring at his partner. There was no way he was going to admit to Blair just how much depended on Blair to keep him grounded. The thing was, since they'd become lovers there was almost always bits of Blair on Jim, or in Jim; so, even if Blair wasn't with Jim, he was. In fact, this conference had been the longest the two men had been apart and Jim was paying for it.
"Jim," Blair ignored the glare, instead pressing for more information. "I need to know these things, man. Secrets have a bad habit of biting us."
"Okay, I think some of my control comes from having you with me, always and in all ways," Jim reluctantly admitted.
"Wow," Blair's eyes looked like they might pop out of his head. "How long can you go without, I wonder." The smile Blair sent Jim's way suggesting all manner of experiments; none of which Jim was keen on.
"Chief, do you want to be the one to explain to Simon that we need a nookie break before I can work my magic?" Jim went on the offence before Blair started planning on curtailing their extra-curricular activities; all in the name of the advancement of Sentinel knowledge.
"No, but. . ."
"No buts, Chief," Jim had a solution planned, one that he thought was much better than abstinence. "How about we just make sure that we never go that long again without a bit of us time?"
"I can do that," Blair's smile this time suggesting that maybe now was a good time to pull over and stop for a bit of that us time. "But don't think I've forgotten about that last zone."
'Damn,' Jim thought he'd gotten away with that one. "I think it was something I smelled," Jim tried to explain.
"The murderer?" Blair asked disbelievingly, "or something else?"
"Something else, I think."
"Come on, Jim, you know the drill. The memory is there, filed away. Pull it up and tell me about it." Blair always got pushy when something went astray with Jim's Sentinel abilities.
"I remember Dr. Mallard fishing for information," Jim grudgingly admitted. "Just how much do you think he suspects, Chief?"
"Who?"
"Dr. Mallard, that's who. He even commented about not wanting to upset my young guide."
"Oh shit," Blair went a whiter shade of pale.
"Blair," Jim was reaching for the steering wheel even as he asked after his companion's health, "hey, no fainting while driving. You want to pull over and let me take the wheel?"
Blair shook his head as though to clear cobwebs. "No can do, bro, I'm the only listed driver. You drive and we're not insured."
"So, what's got you so worried then?"
"Abby Sciuto," Blair replied causing Jim to blink at the non-sequitor.
"Abby Sciuto?"
"Gibbs' forensic scientist, remember, Gibbs mentioned her?"
"So?" Jim remembered the name; he also remembered Blair didn't look too happy when he'd heard it either.
"Dr. Mallard was heading back to NCIS and I'll just bet he's going to mention his suspicions to their forensic scientist, a brilliant forensic scientist known for thinking outside the box."
"Oh, hell." Jim had to agree with Blair's assessment, they were screwed. If Blair knew about Ms Sciuto and thought of her as someone able to think outside the box then she's be able to think outside the small box, and the BIG box.
"Yep, we are screwed."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Gibbs cocked an eyebrow as he watched DiNozzo chuck a relatively small backpack into the back seat before Tony slid into the passenger seat beside him. "Traveling light, DiNozzo?"
"Always," Tony flashed his brightest grin at the NCIS agent, cock-sure of himself as he'd made it back down to the car with almost thirty seconds to spare. "Never know when you might have to up and leave in a hurry." Tony quipped, though the jovial tone (and the smile) weren't reflected in the young man's eyes.
Gibbs filed that fact away for later. Given that Tony appeared to be something of a clothes horse -- the cut and quality of the material of the suit testament to the fact that DiNozzo understood fashion -- the size of the backpack was almost incongruous. "You got enough stuff in there if I need you in Washington for more than a day?"
"If I need another pair of jeans I can always grab them." Tony replied with a cheeky grin. "You only allowed me ten minutes to pack so I went for the basics, you know, what I need to shower, shit and shave, like a marine."
"This isn't basic, DiNozzo," Gibbs growled back but any implied reprimand was negated by the slight crinkling at the edge of Gibbs' eyes and the half smirk that the ex-DI flashed at Tony.
"Didn't think it was," Tony pushed, living dangerously.
"DiNozzo," Gibbs planted his right foot on the accelerator, foregoing the pleasure of quick up-side slap to the head of one Anthony DiNozzo. The resultant scrabbling, as DiNozzo fought momentum, and inertia, while trying to buckle up his seatbelt caused Gibbs to grin as they pulled away from the curbside. "Don't lose your lunch."
"Wouldn't think of it, Boss," Tony had cottoned onto Gibbs' game and was going to give as good as he got.
A quick nod was all he got for his efforts but it seemed to Tony that he had passed some sort of test as Gibbs slowed the vehicle back from ludicrous speed and cruised along at plaid.
"So, do you think Sandburg's tenuous connection to the Navy will be enough to have NCIS take over the case?" Tony asked Gibbs turned the vehicle onto the Baltimore-Washington Parkway.
"Apart from the fact I've got a dead Marine, you mean?"
"Well, yes, apart from that."
"Don't know. You tell me, you're the one who's read the case files."
"Fine, victim number one, Dr. Michaela Corken, currently employed as a dental surgeon at the Sinai Hospital. She took the job in Baltimore to be closer to her fiancé, Dr. Simon Hanks. Hanks was recently employed as head of the University Of MD Oral Surgery Unit," Tony started to rattle off the facts of the case from memory. "Now, my guess is, unless it's a case of killer tooth decay, we can rule out work as a motive." Tony flashed a brilliant smile at Gibbs demonstrating in his case, at least, there was no killer decay lurking in the corners.
Gibbs turned his head, slightly, to face Tony. A raised eyebrow and an old fashioned look was all he was needed to reel DiNozzo back in.
Getting his head back in the game, DiNozzo continued. "Tox results all came back negative, no opiates, amphetamines or cannabinoids detected; so drugs as a motive also washed out. Sandburg's possible Navy connection, and it is tenuous, is that Michaela's first husband is ex-Navy."
"Ex-Navy?"
"The ex, Devon Alfred Corken, was, until recently a Lieutenant Colonel in the USMC Chemical Biological Incident Response Force. Not long after Michaela moved to Baltimore, Devon Corken accepted a position at BioDetect Systems to lead their research and development team; the salary package offered was a substantial increase on his previous salary as a Lieutenant Colonel and the head office is here in Baltimore."
"So, did he follow the ex out of spite? Was he still sleeping with her?" Gibbs knew, from painful experience, that a man, even a Marine, might follow his ex-wife to keep messing up her life; the fact that he'd discovered his first (ex) wife in bed with her ex-husband when he'd returned from an overseas deployment was proof enough that Devon Corken might still be deeply involved in his ex-wife's affairs.
"Something like that happen to you?" Tony asked, having picked up on the angry and bitter undertone.
Gibbs didn't deign to answer the question though he did tighten his grip on the steering wheel.
Tony took the silence as an agreement and decided to move on to safer topics before the steering wheel cracked under the pressure. "If Devon Corken was still in Michaela's life it wasn't for the booty call. Apparently he paid higher than usual maintenance for his children, covering the costs of many extra-curricular activities. Custody visits were regular; the children's grades were above average, showing no signs of trauma or distress at having divorced parents. Both parents were noted as always attending parent-teacher interviews and the most recent by all three adults; one English teacher had actually commented on how well the ex-husband and the current fiancé got along particularly on issues relating to the children's education."
"So trouble between the ex- and the new fiancé didn't pan out as a motive either." Gibbs' comment was more a leading question than a statement. "I'm beginning to see why it's remained unsolved."
"All the usual suspects all have strong alibis, good relationships with the deceased, or both. If the deceased had been Devon we'd have been better off."
"How?"
"There were some strong indications of professional jealousy from some of David Corken's previous USMC colleagues; though BioDetect Systems were more than happy with the man's performance."
"Go on."
"The most notable detractor was David's superior officer, Colonel Mike Tastier. Tastier apparently had made numerous comments along the lines of he should have been offered the BioDetect Systems job and that one day David Corken would regret taking up the job offer. If David Corken had been the deceased, Tastier would have made a good suspect, but there appeared to be no reason why Tastier might kill Michaela."
"You're sure the target wasn't David Corken or Hanks?"
"Very, even with no obvious motive, not even robbery," Tony began to explain.
"Why not robbery? A house invasion gone wrong."
"Because Michaela's engagement ring (valued at over $5000) was still on her hand when her body had been found; nothing had been taken from the house at all. As for finances, we couldn't find any indication of financial problems for Michaela, Corken or Hanks. For all the apparent lack of motive, it seemed that Dr. Michaela Corken nee Jones had been a chosen target.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"It's no wonder that first shooting went unsolved," Blair commented after he'd finished reeling off the details of Michaela's murder.
"And the tenuous Navy connection is Tastier?" Jim asked for clarification.
"Not so much Tastier, more that Michaela's ex-husband was in the Marines. The second victim, Kong An, her ex-husband was also a Marine, a training Second Sergeant in EOD."
"And victims three, four and five?"
"Victim three, Tracy Jones, her ex-husband is currently stationed at Parris Island."
"So, you're not sure if it fits the patterns?"
"I still think we need more details about Tracy Jones' ex, plus I'll need the details of possible victims four and five before I can be sure but I don't think it's a coincidence that all of the decedents' ex-partners were associated at some point with the USMC."
"Great," Jim groaned, "I'm going to have to put up with Gibbs."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Gibbs strode out of the elevator and into the NCIS bullpen like he owned the place. Tony, almost unconsciously, fitted himself in a step behind, and half a step to the left of Gibbs, like he'd followed Gibbs his entire life.
Jim and Blair stayed in the elevator, ostensibly admiring the view. The truth was neither man keen to leave the safety of the elevator and face what was waiting for them in the bullpen: Dr. Mallard and Abby Sciuto.
"Gibbs, Gibbs, is it true?" Gibbs was almost bowled over by five-foot ten of tattooed 'Goth' girl in thigh high platform boots that had to have at least 5 inches of heel. "Did you really meet a Sentinel?"
"Sentinel, Abs?" Gibbs steadied the girl before she pitched forward, "What's a Sentinel?"
"Ducky was saying you met a Sentinel and a Guide," the girl babbled, "at the crime scene. Is it true? Is he cute? Was Blair Sandburg really there?"
"You don't have Brad and Janet stashed about here, too?" Tony asked Gibbs over the top of girl's babbling as he tried to get his mind around that fact that someone who looked like that apparently had the run of the building.
"Abs," Gibbs grabbed the girl by one shoulder and spun her around till she was facing Tony, "Tony DiNozzo, Baltimore PD. Tony, this is Abby Sciuto, my forensic scientist."
That was a forensic scientist? Black pig-tails, black eye liner, spider web-tattoo, and a collar. Right… Tony Blinked, twice.
Abby apparently was as impressed as he was. She looked Tony over, from head to toe, before turning back to face Gibbs. However, whatever her thoughts were, Tony was not privy to them as the Abby started waving her hands in front of Gibbs.
Gibbs, for his part looked at Abby and glared, before signing something back. "And no, I don't think he's the Sentinel," Gibbs finished whatever conversation he was having with the girl.
"Damn it Gibbs, I thought, for once, you'd brought me back something special." Abby actually pouted at Gibbs, dismissing Tony as not-important.
"He's not a toy, Abby," Gibbs mock growled.
Abby looked at Tony again, this time with a wicked gleam in her eye, "No, not a toy, but if you give me just seven days I can make you a man."
Tony blushed slightly, Gibbs may not have picked the movie reference but apparently Abby had.
Gibbs, ignoring the byplay, turned to glare at the elevator. "You two coming out here, or not?" The question was addressed to the open doors.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
TBC. . .